Harry Potter and the Door of Death
by FactionMixer
Summary: Follow Harry Potter and his friends after the Battle, as they live out the summer days and return to Hogwarts to make up the year they lost. While at Hogwarts, they deal with grief, depression, unrequited love, and incompetent teachers as they attempt to uncover a new dark plot that could unravel the already unsteady peace that cost them so much to obtain.
1. A Gaunt House

**Hello all, FactionMixer here. I have been so fed up with all the Harry Potter fanfiction that I decided to stop complaining and write my own after falling for Harry Potter yet again.**

 **I reread the books only a week ago, so my mind is still fresh off the press.**

 **This is only the first chapter, and I promise that this story will get past the moping around, but I love to play with themes and symbolism, so you are gonna have to put up with it for a while.**

 **The second chapter is going through the editing/revising process and the third is well on its way so I think that I will update weekly, probably every Friday (maybe Saturday depending on how late I stay up) Yes, I know it is a Thursday, but it is only a minute until midnight eastern time so I figured that it is okay.**

 **Well, enjoy. Please read and review. Thanks!**

 _ **I, FactionMixer, would not be responsible enough to own the rights to Harry Potter. If I had written Harry Potter, I would just keep writing until people got bored. Thank the lucky fate of the universe that JK Rowling owns the rights to Harry Potter, its characters, and its plotlines.**_

* * *

Harry Potter was staring at his reflection in the mirror of Ron's room at the Burrow. A week had passed since the war had been won. The Dursleys had been restored to number four Privet Drive by a disgruntled Hestia Jones, former members of the Order of the Phoenix had stopped trooping in and out of the burrow, Kingsley Shacklebolt had been elected Minister of Magic, twelve death eaters and associates had been arrested and were now awaiting trial in Azkaban, and Harry had attended three funerals. The week had passed in a haze, and Harry was only doing was he was told to do: eat, drink, sleep, and talk.

Harry's current assignment was to put on his dress robes for the fourth time that week and meet everyone else outside in the yard to apparate to the war memorial service. His reflection was gaunt. There were deep shadows around his eyes, and his sickly pale face was exaggerated by the mop of jet-black hair that had not been cut since the summer previous. As he glanced at his naked form in the mirror, he saw his scars. The scar from the locket, the scar from Nagini, the scar from surviving the killing curse a second time, and the original scar that started it all. They mesmerized him, as he was astounded at their miniscule nature. The memories the scars represented were still cutting into his mind, creating fresh wounds. He felt as though he was bleeding to death, when in reality, his physical wounds had already healed. It felt like an insult.

After pulling his robes over his head and grabbing his wand, he trooped outside to the front porch, which was absent of the usual clutter once again, for the wellington boots had not been replaced since Fred's funeral.

The Weasleys, if possible, looked even worse than Harry. George, who had taken Fred's death the worst, had only come out of his room to eat for the first few days, and was even then led around by the forceful arm of Mrs. Weasley. He had finally awoken from his stupor to find Mrs. Weasley shouting at him through tears about not wanting to lose two of her sons.

Silence greeted Harry as he made his way over to the solemn-faced Weasleys. Even George, who, in the previous couple days, had taken it upon himself to crack enough jokes for two twins, was dead silent. Hermione, obviously relieved when she saw Harry, was about to call out in greeting, but her mouth closed quickly. Ginny trudged over to Harry and took his hand, giving it a small squeeze. Harry responded with a small, sad smile that barely lifted the corners of his mouth and squeezed her hand in return.

As Harry, Ron, and Ginny had not yet passed their apparition tests, they paired with the people who had in order to get to the Hogwarts gates. Ron went with Hermione, Ginny went with Percy, and Harry went with George, seeing as though Mr. Weasley was busy attempting to support his wife, who had broken out into a fresh veil of tears. Bill, Fleur, and Charlie were meeting them at Hogwarts.

Upon arriving at the gate, they followed the straggling line of people clad in black dress robes to where a small crowd of people had already gathered, not far from Dumbledore's resealed white-marble tomb.

The memorial was for all the people who had not only died during the Battle of Hogwarts, but throughout the entire war. He spotted Hagrid and Madame Maxime together. Their heads rose way above the crowd of somber, tear-streaked faces, but their expressions blended in. Without introduction, Minerva McGonagall, the new headmistress, waved her wand. At her command, a ten-foot-tall black onyx cylinder as thick as Hagrid's torso rose from the ground, engraved with the names of the fallen witches, wizards, muggles, goblins, house elves, and centaurs alike. Around the memorial, black stones rose up from the ground, laying flat, encircling the war memorial- each one engraved with a name of a person or a creature that perished during the Battle itself.

Harry suddenly became aware that Ginny's warm hand was still in his, and as he glanced over at Ron and Hermione, he saw that they too were clutching each other as though they were each other's' lifelines.

The living people moved forward, conjuring flowers and house flags as they went. Hermione conjured an armful of white lilies and was passing them out. Harry somehow found several of the white, aromatic flowers shoved into the hand not holding Ginny's and went to place them. He fingered the name "Fred Weasley" on the onyx column before placing a flower on Fred's stone. He found the names Remus and Nymphadora Lupin and felt his eyes and throat burn as he placed lilies on the graves of the couple. He continued this. The motion was rhythmic. It was comforting even, to be doing something.

The first couple of days after the Battle had been denial, and then after that came realization, accompanied only by unbearable grief. Walking around the memorial, looking at all the lives that had been lost, Harry felt numb, unknowing, unfeeling, as though all the emotion had been burned out of him by what he had experienced. He left the people crowding around the memorial and walked to the Hogwarts gates, where he illegally disapparated, leaving the mourning, crying people to comfort one another.


	2. Letters from Someone

**Hello! I'm back. Well I'm really bad at keeping schedules so I will just update when I feel like it. I have also been reliably informed that this chapter is more pleasurable than the last one, so enjoy a break from the gloomy, murky water of grief.**

 **I also apologize for my poor choice in picking a title. The title-which-must-not-be-named, ever, has been changed to something darker, but with less accidental innuendo.**

 _ **I do not own the Harry Potter series and all rights belong to JK Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros Entertainment company.**_

* * *

Harry Potter was lying flat on his back staring at the ceiling of Sirius' old bedroom in Number 12 Grimmauld Place, an unopened letter clutched in his hand. It was crafted with emerald ink and heavy parchment and it bore the Hogwarts crest. When he had come back from lunch in the dining room, he had found it sitting on his bed, the emerald ink glistening in the dim light. Harry continued to stare at it, pondering whether or not to open it. There was an insistent tap-tapping noise coming from the locked wooden door, which he ignored, caught up in his own thoughts.

The enchanted, everlasting calendar on the wall, retrieved from number four Privet Drive along with all of his old school books, was his only contact with the outside world. The calendar, whose days had been marked off without any date circled, showed that today was Harry's birthday. It had been several months since he had had any contact with humans, save the Dursleys who had nearly jumped out of their skins when a shadow-eyed Harry had appeared in their front hallway, levitating a large stack of schoolbooks and wizarding equipment through the doorway before apparating out of sight.

Even though the grief was sometimes unbearable, the days were mostly filled with a quiet numbness. More importantly, the days had not been bogged down by anxiety at every noise, and worry about which names would show up in the obituary column of the Daily Prophet. All in all, Harry's summer had been painful, but silent. Harry basked in the quiet, and often shut himself inside Sirus' old room in Grimmauld Place. He had replaced the mattress and the blankets, and lying tucked in bed created the same warm, safe feeling that he had experienced while dead, in the white King's Cross Station.

Harry had also periodically yearned for the summers when he had been shut in his room, doing his homework in the dead of night, and secretly corresponding with his two best friends. Now that Hedwig was gone, he would have had no easy way of contacting them, even if he wanted to. After the battle, Ginny had suggested getting a new owl, but Harry had refused point-blank.

The tap-tapping persisted. Harry, annoyed, awoke from his stupor, dropped the unopened Hogwarts letter into the trash can, which appeared to be sleeping, and opened the door. Pigwidgeon bowled into him and starting flitting around him, clearly excited to have made a delivery deemed impossible. Indeed it should have been impossible, as Harry had very carefully removed and replaced the Fidelius charm, making himself the only secret-keeper. Even though almost anyone trying to contact Harry would have known where he was residing, they shouldn't have been able to get in.

Harry grabbed Pigwidgeon unceremoniously and tore the letters off of him. After being released, he flitted around the room. He had nowhere to go seeing as Harry kept the windows bolted and that Harry had immediately closed the door to the room after inviting in Pigwidgeon, as though more uninvited guests would try to force their way in.

He tore open the first envelope dated May 24th and three pieces of paper fell out. He grabbed one at random from the floor and read.

Harry,

I know you need time. We all do- but I can't just sit here and wait for you to come back. Harry, please talk to me. None of this was your fault. Plus, Mum is worried sick. She keeps trying to write but she says that none of the letters can find you. We all assumed you'd gone back to Grimmauld place, but we tried it and couldn't get in. After we went to check at Privet Drive, and they'd told us you'd taken all of your stuff and left, we tried to go back to Number 12, but we couldn't even see it anymore. Hermione says you've probably redone the Fidelius charm, but I hope this will find you anyway. Please respond. We have tons of news.

Annoyed, but with grudging love,

Ginny

Harry felt a pang in his chest. It was the first feeling besides guilt and grief that he had felt all summer. It wasn't strong, but he felt the feeling through the overwhelming numbness that he usually associated with dementors. He missed Ginny so much that it hurt. He tore open the second letter, hoping that it, too, would be from her. Instead he found Ron's untidy scrawl:

Harry,

I don't know what you think you are doing, or trying to accomplish, but you had better get back here this instant. Hermione and I are going to Australia to find her parents and we would really like you to come. It would be one last adventure. Plus, Mum and Ginny are going crazy. Stop feeling guilty and sorry for yourself, which won't help anyone.

Your best friend,

Ron

Despite what Ron's letter said, Harry was feeling guiltier and guiltier by the minute. He hadn't once considered the possibility that his friends would want to contact him. He opened the last letter to find Hermione's neat cursive which read:

Harry,

How dare you desert us!? I understand what you are going through because I am going through it too- we all are. Despite your protests, people understand you. You aren't alone in your mournful world, and this mournful world would be a lot easier to survive if you were in it. I know this won't reach you unless you change your mind about needing people, but Harry, we need you too. Ron is driving me insane, but we have tons of news. I'm going to find my parents, Ginny has been playing quidditch with George all summer in order to take her mind off of things, and Luna has come to stay with us for the time being while her dad deals with stuff at the ministry. She says we shouldn't be too harsh on you, and I'm really trying not to be, but Harry, you left us when we needed as many friends and family as possible. The least you owe us is to come back as soon as soon as you get this.

With love,

Hermione

and in Luna's looping, random, cursive scribble,

PS. this is Luna. Hi Harry, I'm sorry for what you are going through. If you want to talk, you know where to find me.

Guilt was consuming him, mixed with a longing to see them all again and happiness that they didn't hate him for the Battle and for abandoning them. They actually wanted to talk to him, or at least they had. Full of dread, he slit open the unopened envelope and out fell a small, handwritten letter and a duplicate of the Hogwarts letter he had thrown away.

Surprised, he opened the handwritten letter to find Luna's writing.

Harry,

I'm the only one willing to admit it, but everyone around here misses you and they are all terribly worried. They are all mad now though, and Ginny, Ron, and Hermione are refusing to write until you reply to their other letters. I understand what you are going through and wanted to wish you a happy birthday. Returning from the dead can be hard. I thought that I would just be sending this for nothing, but Kreacher showed up. He says you are eating, but he is worried about you. He so kindly offered to take Pig inside number 12 to deliver this letter to you because he really needs to clean the room you are staying in. He says that it is starting to smell. I also asked Professor McGonagall to allow me to send you another Hogwarts letter because I'm sure that you have already thrown the first one away.

See you soon,

Luna

Harry, by instinct, smiled. Luna's brutal honesty was comforting. He still felt numb, but the emotions were tingling inside of him, longing to rise up and overwhelm him. There was still one letter to go, which read:

Dear Mr. Potter,

As the previous year at Hogwarts was not properly fulfilled or finished, students will be required to retake the year they were supposed to take last year if they wish to continue at Hogwarts. Since last year was supposed to be your last year at Hogwarts, we cannot force you to come back and complete your final year of education. However, we strongly encourage it, as you have not yet taken your NEWTS and may have difficulty finding a job.

A list of materials is enclosed for your reference.

Term begins on September 1 and we await your owl no later than July 31.

Sincerely,

Fillius Flitwick

Deputy Headmaster

Harry found, as promised, the enclosed list of supplies, along with the pleasantly surprising Gryffindor Quidditch Captain badge and a small, handwritten note from Professor McGonagall.

Dear Harry,

I hope you are well, although I have heard from the Weasleys that you have cut off all forms of contact with all living creatures except for your house elf and whatever is still living in 12 Grimmauld Place. I don't understand how you can be so dense sometimes, and you should listen to Ms. Lovegood because she knows what is best for everyone and is honest enough to say it.

On another, equally severe, matter, it seems as though the wizarding community has fallen into a sense of security now that Voldemort is dead. I am not in a position to determine whether the sense of security is false, but I do know that this sense of security strongly resembles the relief that the wizarding community felt after Grindelwald was defeated. The sense of security happening now is the same one that allowed Voldemort to rise to power so quickly many years ago. Against my protests, much of the wizarding community has decided that Defense Against the Dark Arts is now a useless class and I had to fight to keep it in the curriculum. Naturally, no one wanted the job, so I hired a familiar face who is less competent than a troll at fighting the dark arts. With this in mind, I beseech you to restart the DA. If you agree, I would like to add it as extra credit for the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes and even though you should still attend all of your DADA lessons, running the DA would exempt you from homework, essays, or any kind of time-consuming work assigned from the class. You will obviously have to take the NEWT but I am confidant in your ability to fight dark forces. Please think it over and I strongly encourage you to come back to Hogwarts.

Hoping that you get your head out of your misery,

Minerva McGonagall


	3. The Birthday Party

**Hello! Welcome to the next chapter installment of "Harry Potter and the Door of Death." This one was not read over carefully by my betas cause they are busy. Instead, I read over it so feel free to point out any grammar stuff that I missed.**

 **On that note, please review. Good reviews really help me know what you like and don't like about the story and where you are thinking it will go with the foreshadowing I have given you. If you are confused at all, I assure you that I will address almost everything in the next chapter.**

 **Oh, also, all of the chapters reference canon chapters from the books. They chapters referenced will all have significance.**

 _ **I don't own Harry Potter. JK Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros own the rights to Harry Potter.**_

* * *

Harry felt a distant sense of elation bubble slightly in his chest. He was going back to Hogwarts. He was going back to how it was before. He would have Quidditch, friends, and classes to keep him busy. Even Draco Malfoy would be a sight for his sore eyes. He would get to Hogwarts, and things would be better. Hogwarts would make everything okay, just like it had in the past.

He grabbed a crumpled sheet of parchment and a forlorn, roughed-up quill from the bottom of his trunk. He hurriedly dipped the quill in the remnants of a bottle of spilled ink staining the clutter nearest it and scribbled the words "Professor McGonagall, I accept" along with his signature. With the skill of a seeker, Harry caught Pig and stuffed the crumpled note into his beak.

"Deliver that note straight to McGonagall, you hear?" Harry told the owl sternly. Pigwidgeon fluttered excitedly as Harry unbolted the window and forced it open, allowing a fresh breeze to enter the admittedly smelly room. As the tiny owl zoomed out of sight, Harry roared, "Kreacher!"

There was a crack, and the house-elf appeared. He wore a fluffy white towel around his lower half, and had found a dark black pillowcase embroidered with green silk to wear over his chest. Holes were neatly cut into it for his head and arms, and Regulus Black's necklace was shining proudly on his chest.

"Master called?" Kreacher bowed deeply, his nose almost touching the layer of grime that sat on top of the floor.

"Yes, I would like you to take a message to the Burrow for me," Harry requested forcefully.

"Kreacher wonders what this message is. Could this possibly mean that Master Harry has realized that the company of friends is good for him?"

"Er, yes, I have. I would like you to ask Mrs. Weasley if I could visit them to get school supplies from Diagon Alley for the upcoming school year. If she says yes, send an owl back and wait there for me.

"Also, you should help her with the cooking and cleaning," Harry added as an afterthought.

"Kreacher understands, sir. But Kreacher must ask if he is allowed to clean Master Harry's room before he leaves, or if he should wait until Master Harry is back at Hogwarts, which Kreacher finds most intriguing."

"Kreacher I gave you an order! Go _now_!" Harry's voice strained from the effort of not yelling. Kreacher disapparated with an offended look and a loud crack as Harry took his sudden anger out on the trash can in the corner, which yelped indignantly. He had no idea what had gotten into him.

Harry started rummaging through the rubble for his supplies. Harry concluded that he would need to clean up eventually, even if the Weasleys did deny his request for a visit. Harry thought forlornly of Kreacher and his offer to pick up the room. Now, rummaging through disgusting, smelly piles of debris, dust, and old food, he regretted sending Kreacher away so soon.

About an hour after Kreacher left, Harry received a short reply attached to Errol in Mrs. Weasley's writing.

 _Harry,_

 _thank goodness you are okay! You had us all so worried. You have a lot of explaining to do, young man. Of course you are welcome here, but I must warn you that Ron, Ginny, and Hermione are in a right state. They are also quite angry at you and Ronald is also wondering what you did to his owl. We haven't seen Pig in weeks._

 _Hoping to see you soon,_

 _Molly Weasley_

Harry was so relieved his knees felt weak. He had been sure that they would say he should not visit them, or else say that he would never be welcomed back into their home.

He immediately picked up his cleaning pace and soon enough, everything that he could salvage was packed away in his trunk. His invisibility cloak, map, and wand were stored inside his robes. As he took one last look at the room, he realized he would miss the comfort of being in Sirius's old room. In particular, Harry would miss the photo of the marauders, the last of whom had died during the Battle. Harry turned his back on the photo and with his trunk in his hand, he, with some difficulty due to to trunk's weight, disapparated.

He arrived outside the Burrow with a loud crack and an ungraceful plummet into a mud puddle as his trunk slammed into him. He was still apparating illegally and as he siphoned the mud off of his robes with his wand, he made a mental note to take the test, even though at this point it didn't matter much. As he approached the misshapen house, he spotted chickens, gnomes, and Wellington boots. It looked like the Burrow had returned to its normal order.

As he approached the door, he heard shouting come from inside. Harry knocked, trying not to eavesdrop, but the conversation, held by screaming voices, was hard not to listen to. "Ron you prat! How dare you say that!" Ginny's voice rang through the muffled cacophony of screams, shouts, and loud noises.

Harry knocked again, harder. This time it was Luna's voice that he could hear clearly. "Ron, that really was an awful thing to say." Harry was trying to comprehend what was going on as he pressed his ear to the door, still knocking.

"I didn't really mean it," Ron mumbled. "He's just acting like a pretentious prat. I mean, look the situation. We all lost people. We all have to continue with our lives, but he just gets to shut himself in Grimmauld place and ignore the rest of us?"

"You shouldn't have said it that way, though," Hermione scolded. "You made it sound like Harry doesn't even care that we survived the war."

He heard Ginny's voice again. "Ron has got a point though, hasn't he? All Harry has done all summer is pretend like we don't exist"

Harry couldn't take it any longer. Harry swung the door open. At the sound of the door slamming against the wall behind it, all four of them jumped and looked for the source of the noise. Ginny paled and looked stricken. Ron's ears turned red, and Hermione was suddenly very busy examining one of the forks on the table set for dinner.

"Hello Harry," Luna said cheerfully, striding over to him to shake his hand. "I hope your summer has been okay. We've all been very worried about you." Luna said all of this with the pleasant air of discussing a particularly nice sunny day.

"It doesn't sound like they've been worried about me," Harry said coolly, ignoring the suddenly pitying look on Luna's face. "In fact, it sounds like they want me to leave."

"No of course not!" Hermione exclaimed quickly. As she looked up at Harry he saw the exasperated expression on her face and tears brimming in her eyes. "Of course we don't want you to leave."

"What are you doing here?" Ginny asked forcefully.

"I got your letters…"

"About time," Ron grunted.

"...and I've decided that I want to return to Hogwarts, so I asked your mum if I could stay here until then."

"Ooh, that's wonderful! Now we can all go together!" Luna exclaimed happily, beaming as she looked around at their stony faces. "When should we go shopping?" They were spared from answering by Mrs. Weasley, who came in to check on the food, towing George in for dinner at the same time.

"Oh Harry, dear, you look frightful!" Mrs Weasley proclaimed, rushing over to grab his arm and force him into a chair. "We need to get some food in you. Dinner's almost ready.

"And you all," Mrs. Weasley said, addressing Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Luna with sharp eyes. "Harry needs to sleep, and he will explain everything tomorrow."

Harry was grateful, because he still did not have a good explanation for locking himself up. How did he explain to the people who wanted to talk to him, his best friends, that he had shut them out, literally, because he didn't want their company. Unfortunately for Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny's faces told Harry that they would be badgering him with questions as soon as they were out of earshot of Mrs. Weasley.

Once they had all sat down, Mrs. Weasley served them all great helpings of steak and kidney pie. The main course reminded Harry of something.

"Mrs. Weasley, where is Kreacher?"

"He has been such a big help already," said Mrs. Weasley, beaming. "I barely had to cook at all. Bless him, now he's cleaning up Ronald's room so that you have space to sleep." She shot a reproving look at Ron. "Ron hasn't cleaned it himself in weeks."

Ron made an indignant noise in his throat and mumbled something through a mouth of full of Kreacher's steak-and-kidney pie, spraying Ginny with crumbs, who grumbled "Ron, that's disgusting!"

Ron finally swallowed. "Well I haven't been home to clean it, have I?"

"What do you mean?" asked Harry, taken aback.

"We went to look for my parents," Hermione said, speaking for the first time since dinner started.

"Did you…" Harry's question was interrupted by a loud crack outside. Arthur Weasley soon appeared in the doorway, looking windswept and exhausted.

"Harry!" Mr. Weasley greeted him. "It's great to see you. We've missed you all summer. I hope you are prepared to explain what happened to you." Mr. Weasley looked sternly down at Harry over his crooked glasses and Harry caught a glimpse of both worry and relief in Mr. Weasley's eyes.

"Er…"

"Arthur, Harry will have plenty of time to explain tomorrow," Mrs. Weasley chided, leading her husband over to an empty chair and sitting him down in it. "For now he needs rest and food."

"That reminds me Harry, Happy Birthday!" Arthur said with a smile.

"Ooh my goodness, I almost forgot," Mrs. Weasley jumped up from the table and ran over to the oven, from which she removed a large batch of treacle tart. "I made this earlier, in case you showed up."

She waved her wand and balloons appeared, tied to the back of Harry's chair, along with an 18-shaped candle that was smushed into the piece of dessert she pushed toward him.

"Thank you Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, forcing himself to smile as he wolfed down the delicious dessert.

Harry was the first one finished. He excused himself and climbed to the very top of the stairwell, up to Ron's room. There he found his trunk sitting at the end of an extra bed, placed next to Ron's. He also found Kreacher, who was wiping some invisible smudge off of Ron's prefect badge.

"Hello Kreacher," Harry said warily, unsure if Kreacher was mad about how he had been treated earlier. Ever since Kreacher had taken a liking to Hermione, his standards of living had gotten higher. Harry wouldn't have minded, as Kreacher still loved cleaning and cooking, but it meant one more set of feelings to take into account. It did not help that Kreacher was very vindictive and had gotten good at holding grudges.

"Master," Kreacher nodded in Harry's direction before doing a final sweep of the room and disapparating, presumably to Grimmauld place to clean Sirius' old room, as there was no familiar crack echoing from the kitchen below.

As he sat down on the extra bed and began rifling through the mess inside of his trunk, he imagined Ron, Ginny, and Hermione talking and laughing down in the kitchen, still savoring Mrs. Weasley's treacle tart. Even though he was back among people, he felt more alone than he had in a very long time.

* * *

 **I've been trying not to A/N at the bottom, but I must ask again. Please Review, follow, and fav. Thanks for reading! I am very excited to write the next chapter, but I don't know when I will have time because I have to finish my AP World HW.**

 **Thanks again!**


	4. Luna Lovegood

**Chapter 4**

Harry, wallowing in his grief and loneliness, continued to rummage through his trunk. Despite what Mrs. Weasley said, they did not want him at the Burrow. It seemed as though fleeing would be better. Getting as far away from Britain as possible would have been ideal, but Harry was still holding out hope that Hogwarts would remedy things. The mess inside Harry's trunk was the only thing that needed cleaning in the room. Kreacher had seen to that. Harry buried himself in the physical work, thinking spite and breathing grief. Soon, organized piles of wizarding materials appeared on the extra bed. Harry had almost finished cleaning out his trunk when Ron, Hermione, and Ginny entered the room.

Ginny sat down on Ron's bed, facing Harry, and tried to meet his gaze as Harry determinedly started restacking his things neatly into his trunk.

"Care to explain what happened to you over the summer?" Her curt tone made Harry look up.

Her eyes, a warm brown color that Harry loved, uncharacteristically pierced him. For no reason, overwhelming sadness overtook Harry and he felt like talking through everything. He needed to talk about accepting his death, and then not fulfilling it. He needed to talk about what he experienced after he died and what it took out of him to come back. He needed to talk about not only the people he lost, but how he had met them, prepared for them to embrace him, and had accepted that he could finally let himself go and be with them again. He wanted to tell Ginny, to confess to those warm, brown eyes, that the hope and love that had welled inside of him to press down the fear of his own death had been brutally ripped away by his return to reality. It seemed as though there was nothing on earth that could compare with the warmth and happiness he had felt after he died.

Harry so desperately wanted to say what he felt. He wanted to gush it out, to be comforted with love by a mother that he had assured himself he would be with. He was wary, though, of his friend's stares. He didn't know how they would react- whether they would dismiss him or try to overly involve themselves. Any condolences from them would be fruitless, and Harry was wary of their reactions, which were sure to have been extreme.

There was one person, though, that would understand. She seemed to understand everything. She was right downstairs in Ginny's room. Harry needed to talk to-

"Luna!"

Ginny looked alarmed at Harry's sudden outburst, and Hermione and Ron echoed her expression. Harry was confused for a moment, and then he realized that he had thought aloud.

"I need to talk to Luna." He got up from the bed and tried to push his way past Ron and Hermione, who blocked his way.

"Harry, _what_ is going on?" Hermione was exasperated, but worry tinged her voice. "Talk to _us_. We can help with whatever it is."

"No, I need to talk to Luna."

"Mate, you're going to be as loony as her if you keep this up," Ron pointed out forcefully. "Hermione's right, we can help."

"Harry?" Luna appeared behind Ron and Hermione. "What's wrong?"

"He says he needs to talk to you." For some reason, Ron sounded suspicious.

"I think Harry owes all of us an explanation, though," Hermione added, turning her head to survey Harry.

"What's there to explain?" Harry almost shouted. "I went through a bad time. I was at Grimmauld Place, I didn't do anything exciting, and mostly I tried to get over everything that happened."

"And did you?" Luna asked quietly.

Harry looked down. "I was being stupid. I'm sorry I just abandoned you guys, but I needed some time to myself."

"Well it's not like we weren't doing the exact same thing here," Ron said. "You can be a bit dense sometimes. It took you long enough to realize that living people make grief better."

Harry forced a smile, and he was startled as two manes of hair- red and brown- flew into his face. He fell over, startled. Hermione scrambled to her feet, her cheeks flushed from embarrassment, and Ginny laced her hand through Harry's.

"I'm glad you are back," she told him quietly. "Next time you leave me though, I might not wait around. This makes what, twice, now?" She grinned and punched him playfully on the arm as she pulled him out the door, past Luna's surveying, worried gaze, down the stairs, and out to the quidditch field. Everyone played, even Hermione and Mrs. Weasley. As George hoisted Ron onto his shoulders after a brilliant save, Harry caught Luna staring at him mournfully, and pondered the fact that Luna may not have been fooled by his forced smiles and easy lies.

It comforted him that at least one person understood him.

* * *

 **I am really sorry that this chapter is so short. I was going to attach it to Chapter 3 but I wanted to post Chapter 3 and I had no idea how to write this in character. I tried my best, but I am sure that this whole bit was very OOC. Most of the beginning will be OOC, though, because this is the first time we see the characters REALLY struggle with internalized depression- correct me if I am wrong. As they recover and move on to the next "big bad" I hope to make the characters more like themselves.**

 **I have gotten some questions on whether I ship Harry and Luna. The answer is no, because I ship Hinny, but I love the friendship between Luna and Harry I will definitely be developing it.**

 **Thanks for reading, and I am sorry it is so short. The next chapter will be longer.**

 **FactionMixer**


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